


The End

by spotofpurple



Series: Dagger and his Rose [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boss Louis, Crimes & Criminals, Domestic Fluff, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson Get Married, M/M, Organized Crime, Orphanage, Parents Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Sugar Baby Harry, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:37:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spotofpurple/pseuds/spotofpurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a crime boss. Harry is the love of his life. They have a fairytale life. Sometimes it gets complicated. And painful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is my new work. It will be posted in parts, snippets of their lives together, the little things and major developments. 
> 
> In order to continue, I honestly need your opinion. So please, if you read, let me know what you think/comment. 
> 
> All the love,  
> spotofpurple

_ _

_I'm gonna climb on top of your ivory tower_

_I'll hold your hand and then we'll jump right out_

_We'll be falling, falling_

_but that's OK_

_'Cause I'll be right here_

(LABYRINTH ft. Emeli Sande)

All the lights in the street outside flicker out while the man works on Louis’ forearm. Harry is gripping his other hand tightly like he himself needs it more than Louis does. That’s probably the truth, used to pain and rough treatments as Louis is. Harry is tender, ball of nerves at the end of the couch, wine-stained lips and ripped jeans the only thing on him. The needle pricks at Louis’ skin and he knows it is there, but the way Harry looks amazed at each new black dot appearing to immortalize their love for each other under Louis’ skin is too distracting to care.

The dagger looks absolutely beautiful though, piercingly dangerous and tempting right underneath Louis’ skin and Harry’s eyes are a bit glossy as the watches it come to life. He had sketches all over their house, like with all of their other tattoos, but this one still took the most time to plan. Louis knows how important it is for his boy, how important it is for himself, so he lets their regular artist sweat over it for a long time. The needle is still prickling away at his skin when the dawn breaks down over the city.

Harry doesn’t notice anything but the ink getting Louis’ crime boss symbol immortalized beneath his skin. Louis still has the time to observe the light seeping through into their living room, a bottle of whiskey half empty beneath his feet illuminated for a moment and then the red of the sky seeping into the pleasant blue.

“I am done Sir.”- the man says suddenly and Louis looks at him, sees how exhausted he looks and the beads of sweat breaking anew over his brow. He knows he will tattoo Harry next and there is absolute concentration required there, no mistakes or slips of the needle, or his life will be taken. Everyone in the city knows better than to even think of doing the Dagger’s boy any wrong.

He nods towards the door in a silent permission for the man to have a break and he hurries away, black clothes and tattoos a blur across the room. Louis feels a dull pain in his arm and there is still enough alcohol in his blood to make him not think clearly. He looks at Harry first, the absolute awe in green eyes, focused on the dagger, tips of his fingers hovering over Louis’ skin like he wants to touch before the ink really sets in, the way Harry’s tongue sneaks past his lips to wet them in blind need to taste, to sink his teeth in the wounded flesh before him. This tattoo is the best fucking choice Louis has ever made and he doesn’t even have to look at it to know.

But it is beautiful. The design, the style, the color contrasting his skin. Louis knows all that, from the rope and the compass and the arrow that he already got inked to match Harry’s, but this one… This one is inked in the morning before the actual ceremony of his and Harry’s wedding. This is a promise carved in the sky now, a signal to all the assholes of the world to try and come and separate them. There is just one thing Louis Tomlinson ever knew for sure in his life and that was that it would take bullets in all of his major organs to rip his dead, bleeding body away from Harry. And now he gets to write the ending chapter of that oath on his body. So yes, the dagger is pretty damn important and it turned out perfect.

“I love it Lou. I love it so much…”- Harry whispers over the tattoo and his breath makes Louis shiver more than the actual feeling of hot air on his skin.

“I know sweetheart. I know.”- he nods and Harry looks up at him for the first time, scrambles up the couch to kiss him as filthy and hungry as he can. Louis kisses back, presses closer to his boy and breathes him in. The overnight lights in the living room go dim and fizzle out as the sunlight seeps in, Louis can feel it on the back of his neck.

“I want mine Lou, please, can I have mine now?”, Harry asks him quietly and Louis chuckles at the pleading. Harry will always ask. Even when he knows he doesn’t have to, even when he can be sure that Louis will give him everything, anytime, anyplace.

He kisses Harry’s brow and reaches for the whiskey below them, tucks Harry in on the couch in his place and kisses his lips before pouring the liquor in for him. Harry swallows slowly, like he does everything else and Louis searches his eyes to see if he is truly ready for it before shouting the man in.

One look is all he gets, of warning and promise, if he even thinks that he will mess it up and cause Harry any more discomfort than necessary… The man nods, offers a reassuring smile and gets to work.

Harry keeps his eyes closed and his fingers in Louis’, only flinching to the feeling of cold alcohol dabbed over his arm and elbow. Louis watches his eyelashes fluttering over white cheeks, glimpses of green stealing the light away from the room, red lips parted in preparation and he thinks how perfectly it aligns.

His rose gets his own one inked. He can’t wait to marry him tonight, to love and kiss and adore the man he has for years, promise him forever for the infinite time and then hug him on the next dawn. Perfectly, in the bed of their own, in a house of their own, in a city which Louis gave to Harry as a wedding gift, he will hug his husband and the dagger will align with the rose. Protecting. Guarding. Knowing. Appreciating. He can’t wait for all the life to come and all the promises he gets to fulfill yet, of children and years and a garden with many roses, as many as Harry needs to realize that he is always, forever-the most treasured one.

Harry doesn’t flinch until the man starts working on his elbow and Louis reacts as if he wasn’t in a trance over his fiancée, lifts up the gun from his belt and points it at the man. There is silence and staggered breathing then, Harry’s eyes flutter completely open and he chuckles.

“Let him work Lou, it has to hurt a bit, it’s not too bad.”- Harry says and settles back into the couch.

Louis frowns and lifts an eyebrow, the man nods in understanding. Louis lowers the gun as the man gets back to work, gently moving Harry’s flesh into position beneath the lamp above his head, the only artificial light in the room. He needs no more warnings, just a look to the right, where he can see the gun and he continues. Harry snuggles closer to Louis’ arm above his head and closes his eyes again.

Louis looks at him again and feels that dark, powerful feeling creep up his chest. Born out of love, his determination to give the world to this boy has brought him to the top of the food chain. He has advisors that claim he has to be aware that there is always the bigger fish. And he knows this. But he also knows that the stakes he has been playing with haven’t changed at all. It is still Harry, the only treasure he has, and he hides him in the open. Let them try to touch though and the Dagger will make sure they pay.

The sun is well and up when the artist is done. Harry has spent the majority of the time with his eyes closed and fingers fidgeting in Louis’ hand, so when there is no needle on his skin anymore, he looks up, as if he was just woken up and smiles at Louis.

“Are you not going to look at it?”, Louis asks, staring at the rose more than at Harry’s face. It is mesmerizing and the way the skin raises in prickles gives him the shivers. He never liked seeing Harry tattooed, mainly because that means seeing Harry hurt and having to sit through it, but this… Somehow, he feels like the ritual of the weeding later that day is going to fade into the background of future memories. Because in the forefront of this day there will be an engrained memory of Harry’s flushed skin, stained with the prettiest black ever, lines that ink the curve of falling desperately, finally in love.

“Align it. That is how I first want to see it.”-Harry says.

Louis waves the man off without looking at him and he leaves, all of his equipment still in place, probably to sleep the horrific night of work in one of the spare rooms of the mansion.

Harry reaches for the whiskey bottle and takes a swig while waiting for Louis to move in position, spooning him and aligning their left arms.

Then they both look and Harry’s breath hitches and fizzles out somewhere into the cold morning air. Louis is lying completely still and if it wasn’t for the fierce grip he has on Harry’s shoulder, it would look like he has no reaction. In reality, his brain is running behind on the entire world. He has a rope to Harry’s anchor tattooed too, but this new one, the dagger and his rose, that is the anchor of meaning behind all of his choices.

“Oh Lou.”- Harry manages and if his voice trembles, they are both too overwhelmed to care. An outsider would probably say they look drunk, high or crazy and they are, all three probably, but this is still the most sane they could ever be. Louis has a trail of bodies left behind him on his way to the top, tears and blood and horror, a little bit of glory, pride and the drunken sense of power, but this is the “why” behind it all.

Silence stretches into the day as they lay there, the room getting warmer in the autumn sun of a perfect, dry and colorful September day. Their tuxedos are hanging from the wardrobe doors upstairs and there are people bustling around the house and preparing the essentials already. Louis ‘The Dagger’ Tomlinson is getting married in the late afternoon and there are swarms of criminals all over London aware and looking and awaiting. But. Looking at their hands, Louis links their fingers together and snaps out of it.

He has his entire life to stare at it now. And even if he cared for the law enough to pay attention to when it considers him a married man, Louis would still know that the only true ritual he will ever need just happened. Smirking, he presses a pair of lips to Harry’s curls, close to his ear and whispers:

“You are still the prettiest rose, Mr. Tomlinson.”

***

“The Mansion”, as Louis calls it is in the forest just outside London. He has paid a lot for it, in money and servants and guards and, lastly, blood. The thing is, when you climb your way to being a crime boss anywhere, the first few months is bound to be filled with experiments everyone else does on you. The whole crime world and then some wanted to know where his limits were and what his weak points are. Sadly for anyone involved, Louis was born quick on his feet, ruthlessly intelligent and fiercely protective of what he considers his. It took a lot of spilled blood and even more promises of terror to keep and fortify this place into what it was now: a lush, warm home with barbed wire around the outer border of the estate.

Louis likes seeing it grow into and around Harry, witness his fiancée boss people around in that kind way of his, build up an army of admirers that will obey his every whim because they adore him. Harry never needed to scare people to get whatever he wanted from them, a smile and a bat of eyelashes was enough.

For their wedding though, Louis made sure to use his own tactics of fear-inducing glares towards the staff to make sure everything goes according to Harry’s plan.

His boy wanted an autumn wedding, colors and warm and small and intimate. Wooden floors and a sunset ceremony, white in the dancing room and lanterns in the evening, a fairytale twirl in the dry leaves falling and a red tie around Louis’ neck. So Louis got people to build a wooden shed of ballroom proportions in a little clearing in the forest behind their house, set up the date in golden, dry autumn weather and the actual ceremony table set below a tree, where the sun will set right behind them, so the photos would later look like it was effortlessly magical just because. He got him lanterns and a band that Harry likes and Louis never even heard of. And, of course, he got the red tie and silver wedding rings to match the engagement one he bought for Harry from the money of his first bank robbery.

It is magical. Effortlessly even, because the things that end up being the best are the ones Louis never even thought about until they happened and took his breath away.

Like the sex they have right there on the couch where they got tattooed, hours before the wedding, fingers stroking the freshly inked skin and Harry’s breath in his ear, moans and hitching sobs escaping in a river of emotion Louis drinks up and then lets spill over his own lips, chasing the faints taste of whiskey over the rich taste of Harry.

The gentle maid that brings him a drink while he’s alone and getting ready later, his tie a bit crooked and a nervous smile that he would never show in front of anyone else but Harry.

She doesn’t notice it, of course, but timidly asks him if she could fix up the tie either way.

Louis is surprised really, well aware of the reputation he has among his staff and everyone else he orders around, constants whispers of “Beware!” and “He might not be in good mood.”, surrounding him. That is just the kind of harsh a Dagger must be. To survive. To have a long-lasting impression on anyone looking. To stay true to the game. All in order to protect the Rose.

He nods, frowning and she approaches, touches his tie with minimal force and sets it is place.

Louis is honestly staring at her in wonder and a bit of anger, just because, cold eyes scanning her face and then she giggles. She slaps a hand over her mouth and scoots back, looks at the floor and apologizes, shrugs and blinks up at him.

“Master Harry always says to all of us that taking care of your appearance and image is the most important thing we have to do.”

Louis stares after her. Harry employed her, this tiny, fumbling girl, with a lot of hair and innocent giggle. He remembers it, even knows why, her behavior as nice and innocent as Harry thinks everyone should be. But to find out these tiny bits of truth about how the man he promised to protect forever likes to silently protect Louis in return is a catalyst for giggles. He looks at the mirror and sees a smile that only Harry could put on his face, all childish and innocent. He likes to think that what he sees is the real Louis, Harry’s Louis.

Then there is the actual scene that awaits him when he descends the stairs into the garden and between the trees into the clearing. The sun is golden and the trees are vibrantly colored around him, the sky a perfect blue of late afternoon. In front of him, a white-cloth covered path with an occasional leaf fluttering over, crunching beneath his feet.

In front, an arc of wood and dry leaves in all colors beneath the old oak tree. There are chairs to the left and right and some people already sitting down, business partners and associates, an occasional head he recognizes as a friend. Louis doesn’t have many of those, but the ones he has, he keeps close.

He and Harry both knew that the weeding would have to be a public one, an event to establish both status and power and even though Louis will never play up a charade of this day to anyone, he knows the majority of them will misinterpret everything they see today. They will see a display of wealth and Louis doing whatever he wants. Some of them will perhaps wonder what is it that a man like Harry has that trapped someone as powerful as Louis. Money? Connections? Is he simply eye candy? A convenient sex toy?

Louis knows this and he doesn’t allow himself to think about it. It makes his blood boil, but he decided a long time ago that it is not smart to display his adoration even more blatantly. Harry is Dagger’s boy, has been since Dagger became famous (in reality, has been Louis’ since they met in the orphanage 15 years ago) and if people thinking that Harry is irrelevant will protect him in any way, Louis is willing to play along a miniscule bit. It makes him furious sometimes though, the stupidity of supposed criminal masterminds who don’t notice that the man on the top of the ladder has never been alone, never looked at anyone else in anything resembling interest, never hesitated to kill and torture if people came too close to Harry, always provided everything the boy wanted. He doesn’t get how anyone could witness the amount of effort he gives into putting a smile on Harry’s face and even for a second think that he is replaceable. But, he knows that people thinking that has made it possible that Harry stays safe, so he tends not to make a fuss about it.

He walks away from the people and official greetings he is obliged to make very soon into the shed, where there are tables in white and the sunlight reflects on the glass of the lanterns scattered around. This is going to be the prettiest place, where they will dance in the light of the lanterns later. In the far end of the room, he notices Liam, his chief of security, talking to a group of men. Louis nods in his direction and gets a serious look back. He is used to Liam being at the top of his game, perfect behavior and control, which is exactly why Louis trusts him with so much.

Two months ago, after one of those evenings when Harry put him to sleep with discussions about the color of the wedding decorations, Louis woke up in cold sweat after the worst nightmare if his life. Not to be taken lightly, that fear this nightmare injected into his bones, because the Dagger has been a scared, insecure boy from an orphanage, with a lot to lose but nothing to gamble with for years, a constant stream of trouble coming his way. He knows fear and terror and desperation, but that… He dreamt of the wedding day, him waiting for Harry to walk down the forest path towards him. It took ages, but finally he was there, in front of Louis, wide eyes and a smile on his face and then he looked over Louis’ shoulder at something and his eyes widened in fear. Then there was a gunshot and Louis remembers the actual feeling of his fingers getting soaked in blood when he tried to stop it coming out of Harry’s chest, the boy collapsed in his arms and lifeless eyes watching their wedding day sunset go down. He ran from their bed outside, leaving Harry in deep sleep, found Liam in his usual place at the lookout in front of the house and gave him one terrified, desperate look. That night ended in them discussing and plotting how to be safe, how to stay safe. The entire ceremony, besides being Harry’s dream, was also a subplot of control that Liam provided, a calming current in Louis’ chest now. He knew he could trust this man to let him give Harry his prefect wedding day and not worry about other things.

When the moment finally comes and Louis sees him walking down the actual forest path, for real this time, his heart beats wildly out and beyond, not his anymore. Harry is the picture of perfection, glistening eyes visible from when he stepped out onto the path.

There are no people with him, no parents and no replacements for them. They always only had each other either way.

Louis said his “I do” when he was a 10 year old brat, on the playground of St. Peter’s Home for Orphaned Children and a lost kid walked in with a face too innocent and curls too wild. He didn’t know it at the time, of course, but still he remembered a 10 year old instead of the actual moment he got legally married. What does it matter either way? He has been Harry’s since he has been alive, probably. Maybe even before that, from whatever the place is souls come from.

He remembers the kiss though, the way their lips touched and how the setting sun was shining upon them, perfect as they planned it, but neither able to think about the planned things then. He also remembers a leaf that fell into Harry’s hair when he opened his eyes and the adoration that stared back at him from green eyes when he swiped his fingers over Harry’s elbow, where the rose was. The way Harry kissed him the second time, a breeze of autumn wind picking up to bring the smell of dry gold and the sound of crunching leaves to them, ignoring the clapping and congratulations.

Their first dance that night, in a drunk-on-each-other haze, twirling on the wooden floor at the center of the shed, the light of a thousand lanterns around them, the absolute focus he had on Harry, so that the rest of that room became space, the entire universe and there they were, twirling among the stars.

Harry was giggly and happy and probably didn’t even notice the wives of associates trying to get him to accept this or that invitation to one or another thing. Gripping Louis’ hand and later his waist, body fitting perfectly beside Louis, he charmed them all and didn’t even try.

But out of all the perfect things, Louis is always going to remember the quiet of the night in the end of it all. When everyone left and the two of them didn’t miss anyone at all, drunk again and lying in a pile of blankets right outside the shed, where they could see the real stars. Harry wiggled his way out of his jacket and peeled the shirt and bandages away, until the tattoo was visible. Giggling, he did the same to Louis then. Looking at his entire world, Louis got both of their hands out from beneath the blankets into the cold night air, pointed at the stars, with fingers stretched out like they were reaching for them.

Looking at the Rose and the Dagger again, he felt it again, the pull towards up-up-and-away he always knew around Harry.

He felt the Falling.


End file.
